


A Minx by Any Other Name

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Series: 2020 Charity Fundraiser One-Shots for RAINN [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Relationship Advice, Varric Tethras Writes, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26551057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Cullen is pining over the Inquisitor. It's good for the book Varric won't be writing.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford & Varric Tethras, Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: 2020 Charity Fundraiser One-Shots for RAINN [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913077
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	A Minx by Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princessvicky01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessvicky01/gifts).



> This is part of my Charity Fundraiser! All of the proceeds go to RAINN.org to help survivors of sexual violence. Thank you to Princess Vicky for letting me do this amazing piece featuring her Annabel Trevelyan!

Like a natural disaster, sometimes the signs of the Inquisitor’s arrival appeared _before_ Varric saw the woman herself. 

First, all the sound seemed to fade out, sucked from the world itself. Then, just as suddenly, it erupted like a menagerie of chirping birds infested the courtyard instead of the finest and most boring Orlesian nobility. 

Finally, Varric’s whole operation came to a screeching halt. The quill of the scribe on his left went suspiciously silent. The solicitor over his shoulder stopped blathering. Varric held out another sealed message to the messenger on his right but it remained in his hand instead of being whisked away. 

He waited one heartbeat. Another. Then he lifted his eyes to take in the spectacle himself. 

He’d always preferred his ladies closer to his size, and highly unobtainable regardless, but he could see the attraction. 

Annabel Trevelyan had a presence. He watched with a biographer’s critical gaze as the Inquisitor shared a smile with one of the gardeners, offered her own crisp salute and a cheerful grin to a soldier, then let out a peal of laughter at some private joke Dorian made at her elbow.

It wasn’t like Varric was going to _actually_ write a book about the Inquisitor. He’d only done the first one about Hawke because… well, it was _Hawke_. Minx didn’t need an author to explain her life or her actions when everything she touched turned to gold. 

Except maybe, _someday_ , she would. And if she did, who better to capture her than one of the people at her side through thick and thin? Through horrible forest and equally desolate deserts? 

Who better to write her than a friend? 

If that was the _exact_ argument he used to convince himself to write Hawke’s story, he’d never admit it. 

Instead, he coughed politely until his messenger turned their attention back to him. Varric waved the message in his hand, lips twitching. 

“Sorry messere.” The kid said, flushing pink. “Will there be anything else?” 

“We’ll call it a morning.” Varric offered, waving away the other two members of his crew. They dissipated in a moment, leaving Varric alone with his thoughts and observations. 

And with no distractions, he was able to notice all the brilliant details of the courtyard. The flock of Chantry sisters knitting in a corner. One of Nightingale’s spies slipping along the gabled rooftops. The Commander of the Inquisition standing, slack jawed, in the door of the chapel with his eyes fixed on their Inquisitor. 

Just what the story he definitely _wasn’t_ going to write needed. A _romance._

Varric closed his ledger and stood, ambling over to the human. “Nice day for a morning, isn’t it?” 

His joke flew right over Curly’s head. The human wrenched his gaze from Annabel. “Varric. Yes. Good morning.” 

“Crazy idea. But have you ever considered… talking to her?” 

“To who?” 

The blushing gave Curly away. Varric fought to keep his expression from outright smugness, settling for a mild amount of self-satisfaction instead.

“Minx.” Varric jerked his head towards the Inquisitor’s retreating form. “I assumed you’d met in all those fancy war meetings, my mistake. Should I introduce you?”

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen rubbed at the splotchy red creeping up his neck. “I speak to the Inquisitor all the time.” 

“Maybe that’s the problem.” Varric could have laughed. “Too much talking.” 

“The Inquisitor is a lady of noble birth. I would not _sully_ her reputation.” Cullen sounded as prim as his old Orlesian tutor, a stern grande dame of impeccable pedigree. 

_Humans_.

“She’s always excited to get your letters in the field.” Varric offered. 

Tension bled out of Cullen’s shoulders. His eyes sparked with something like hope. “My reports?” 

“Not sure why.” Varric let out a long suffering sigh. “Grabs them right out of the scout’s hands. And she’s got a Fine Dwarven Storyteller right there, but she _devours_ your reports.”

Which were dry as dry could be, in Varric’s opinion. 

“She is dedicated. To the Inquisition.” Cullen replied smoothly. 

“Sparkler said he’s caught her reading them at night. In her tent.” 

Cullen nearly choked on his own saliva. Varric had forgotten how much fun meddling was. 

“In fact. You should take her up to that big desk sometime where you write them. Explain your storytelling technique. I’m sure she’d be enthralled.” 

“She visits my office often.” Cullen murmured forlornly, watching Annabel vanish from view back into the castle. 

“Oh? Does she now? Should I be taking notes?” 

“On business!” Cullen protested quickly, glaring down at Varric. 

Varric didn’t return the heat of his irritation. Instead he offered a small, sad smile of his own. “Maybe consider making those visits a bit less business like, Curly. _Before_ the world actually ends?” 

Varric knew that flash of fear in the other man’s eyes well. “I can’t. I shouldn’t. She is...” 

Varric didn’t bother to contradict the Commander. He knew better than most that ‘I shouldn’t’ meant less than nothing in affairs of the heart. 

“She’s waiting for you to make a move, Curly.” Varric advised. “And she’s not a woman I’d keep waiting long.” 

He clapped the stunned human on the elbow before ambling away, whistling an old song under his breath. He needed his journal and a quiet place to write. 

Inspiration had struck _regardless_ of his thoughts on the matter. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in reading more of my work, you can find me at [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/)


End file.
